Long Lost Stars
by Thyme In Her Eyes
Summary: Full of feelings and inner turmoil, Fuchsia reflects painfully on her life, dreams, losses and yearnings to the stars in the sky.


1 Long Lost Stars  
  
AUTHORS NOTE - This is my first piece of Gormenghast fanfiction so please be gentle *winces* It's about Fuchsia's 'suicide', so expect it to be unoriginal and cliché (sorry) and nowhere near light reading, even though I tried to keep it true and sensitive to her death and feelings. Personally I think this works for both the series and the book so it's a little something for everyone (I hope you like it ^_^ ) Please be honest about it (it's not very good) and if you like reply with some comments/crits etc *braces self*  
  
~*~  
  
Where did they go?  
  
The stars, I mean. Those beautiful, eternal, shimmering dreams of the heavens that I wasted countless wishes on.  
  
It's strange…I used to think they were that – the dreams of the sky, the dreams of all the dead and the living, a memory of every single person that lasted forever. Some stars are brighter than others are, some are prettier, and some change position in the night sky a lot, whilst others burn out completely and are gone forever. I don't think mine will be pretty though, mine will be dim, far away, lost in the dark sky…maybe all alone…forever.  
  
They're so lovely, really lovely, lovelier than trees, rain, clouds and rabbits even – something I've always dreamed of, longed for, just for a little while, but too far away, out of my reach, something I can never touch. I didn't want to take them away from other people though, or simply to have something better all to myself; I only wanted a friend. When I was younger, no one really spoke to me, I had no friends, people gave me some affection but because of what I was, not who I was. Perhaps they never even knew who I really was. Maybe they still don't. I felt so alone, so I spoke to the stars at night – I spoke to them about my opinions, my dreams, my hopes, my fantasies, everything my imagination would allow. I'd make up stories just to tell them, all my 'adventures', the life I wished I had.  
  
I'd wish too, I'd wish and wish and wish that they'd use their magic to help me, to bring me something from my dreams or take me to a place where they'd come true. Perhaps it sounds selfish and childish, but I always hoped that I would one day see the things, the people and the places that came to me only in my dreams.  
  
They – the stars – never answered, never replied or did anything about it that I thought could've been done, the simply listened, silent embers in the sky. Sometimes, it looked like they twinkled in response and even though they only listened it was good to have something listen, it was the closest thing I ever knew to companionship, but in some ways it was a friendship, a deep one. They'd listen, and let me know I was being listened to, that I wasn't alone, and afterwards, when I slept I would dream that I was in that perfect world and even though it wasn't real, in a way it was. It was the magic of the stars, my stars. The next day, I would wake up and run away to my attic and re-create my dream world and do everything I did in my dream, just to try and capture a part of the magic and cling on tightly to my fleeting dreams like a fraying lifeline. I never saw it as clinging hopelessly in my lighter days, but as a game, as a long-dead hope being brought back to life, but it's not the same now. It was all just I dream and I feel like I've just woken up in a new, horrible, frightening place. The real world. All I can do is cling; still try to pretend to find myself in that far-away dream world, long lost like the stars.  
  
Adventure, magic and love – that was all I ever wanted in life, in one form or another. If I had no power or wealth or wasn't the Daughter of the Line I wouldn't mind is I could be that happy without it, I'm sure. What's the use of having a life filled with everything if it's a wasted life, spent alone?  
  
As alone as I feel now.  
  
Lost, lonely, confused, abandoned, unwanted, unloved…  
  
Alone.  
  
Since I was very young, especially (though it's horrible to admit) in…the past few months I had this wonderful recurring dream. In my dream, I was standing alone but not feeling alone in a forest, surrounded by trees towering above me, delicate blades of grass tickling my bare feet. I would wander off into the distance, lost in my own little world until I got to a wide-open space, a beautiful flowerfield, full of soft scents and gentle colours. When I reached the very centre, I would look up and face a sky filled with stars. One by one, they would fall gently from the sky and into my hands, and I could hold them fast; I would hold them fast just above my heart and see it glimmer between my fingers. Then I would wake up with an extraordinary feeling of happiness and irrational, gentle love for almost everything that would last through the morning at least. I always saw it as a sign of hope, that I wasn't alone, that I had to be strong and one day my dreams would come true and be ten times lovelier than I had ever imagined. Sometimes, that dream helped me through some of the most difficult parts of my life, until now.  
  
Now, when the world is upside down and everything feels so wrong and horrible, like a disgusting, painful nightmare in itself, chewing at my burnt-out heart, the dream – my only saviour – turned upside down too – it changed, it became corrupted too, all evil and horrible and wrong. It began the same with the flowerfield and the stars as intensely bright as before but as they fell, hard like rain, they slipped through my fingers and they fell into a dark lake below me. I find myself looking down into the water and the stars are lying there, alone and faded at the bottom, shining up at me and all I can do is watch them sink. When I wake up it makes me want to cry or be sick, but I can't, I just feel alone and scared, like the whole world is laughing at me and throwing stones…  
  
I don't think I can dream any more, I'm too scared to, I've forgotten how. I'm terrified of letting go of myself; even the dreams don't feel the same. It all feels like I've been stripped ugly naked and thrown out into the rain and blood without a comforting soul to help. I can't leave this world behind; everything reminds me of where I am, what happened and how I feel. And how much it hurts.  
  
Those stars are all liars, dreams aren't real, wishes don't come true and fairytales are all cruel lies to feed on our energy. Heroes aren't real – the dashing prince, the charming gentleman, the passionate revolutionary, the noble knight, the faithful servant, the wise sorcerer, the courageous farm-boy…all of them are make-believe. All that exists are the night and the horrible, draining feeling of alone and afraid and of course the cold- blooded, merciless villains and the bloody, mutilated corpses they leave in their wake in a pool of blood and shattered dreams and flesh.  
  
As I look outside my window, there are no stars, only dark clouds and rain like tears from a broken, dead sky of false dreams and falling stars. The shy looks cut, torn open, empty and bleeding without warm, hopeful stars. It doesn't look sheltering any more, but broken. The sky is starless, the gentle rain falling like tears and clinging to my cold, trembling body like the grey bony hands of a drowned corpse.  
  
Maybe this is my dream; the rain is the stars, all the shining embers falling in the air into the cold, dark water below. The sky is torn and bleeding with tears and my long lost stars falling like beautiful raindrops into the flood. I strain to stretch out a shaking hand to catch one, but it slips through my fingers as I follow it with my eyes till it hits the water. My heart is dead and so are my dreams, my body feels so old with staining tears and aching bones and a heart overflowing with grief, all cut open, all leaving me for the cold water.  
  
I wish I was there – will the cold protect me? Will it wrap me in its indiscriminate blanket and take me to a place where no one can hurt me again? Maybe the water is the shining road to those wondrous other worlds, maybe I'm standing next to the real pavement in the sky…all I have to do is step out into the dance of rain and stars and I'll be in a safe, warm, loving place forever.  
  
I'll pretend, like when I was younger, I'll pretend I'm a strong, beautiful bird, flying away, strong and free to a warmer climate without a whisper of goodbye or a single shed tear. Simply…leaving. I'll fly off this window ledge and into the welcoming water to pick up the fallen, lost stars, through the pavement across the clouds, up to the broken sky. I'll fix it, stop its crying and put my long lost stars, my long shattered dreams back in place before flying up, up, into the heavens and the world of dreams.  
  
I shut my eyes as I stand still yet trembling on my window ledge, letting the rain wash over me, to wash away all the bad, horrid things as I prepare to leave Gormenghast and all its people behind and step into the sky.  
  
To dance with the long lost stars.  
  
Forever. 


End file.
